Acceptance Of Risk
by Britpacker
Summary: Malcolm has a question to ask; Trip's got a secret to keep. A missing scene, episode 1.12 "Silent Enemy". Tucker/Reed romantic attraction.


Disclaimers & Confessions: They're Paramount's; any mistakes are mine (no beta!). A missing scene belonging to episode 1.12, "Silent Enemy." Tucker/Reed romantic attraction. They both looked so delicious in the short scene this is designed to follow that I just couldn't help myself!

Acceptance of Risk

"Am I allowed to ask what changed your mind?"

Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker the Third glanced across the cramped maintenance shaft outside the forward starboard cannon port, his lips quirked into a rueful smile. "Figure it wouldn't be you if y' didn't," he replied amiably, taking a sly moment to savour the sight of his companion intent on his work. "So – ask away."

"I believe I just did, Commander." The clipped coldness with which his appearance had been greeted was forgotten; one of the great things about fighting with Malcolm Reed, in Tucker's opinion, was that once he'd been conceded his point, the Armoury Officer happily forgot he'd been pissed off in the first place.

Of course the other really great thing was how damn sexy the Englishman looked when he was fighting mad with a superior officer but determined not to show it. If Malcolm ever found out how often Trip had deliberately riled him to watch those fascinating grey-blue eyes flash, the thin, well-cut lips pulling into a tight line as the nostrils flared, that superior officer would be lucky to escape with nothing worse than a flying visit to sickbay.

"Oh." Damn, he was maundering, and Reed wasn't the man to miss it, however intent his concentration on the complex nest of wiring tucked inside the cannon port. "I've been talkin' to the Captain. He's feelin' bad that he rushed Enterprise out of spacedock with half her systems – 'specially weapons – still packed in boxes."

Reed snorted: the nearest he would allow himself, Tucker suspected, to an expression of disapproval toward his commanding officer's decisions. "I'm glad he's finally seen the light. If you remember, Commander, I've been agitating to prioritise weaponry upgrades from - approximately five minutes into the mission."

"Thought you'd be pleased."

Deftly soldering the outer casing into place, Reed slanted him a mocking glance. "Relieved would be closer. Now if he'll only start agreeing to take a security detail along when he clambers gaily aboard a complete stranger's heavily-armed vessel, I _may_ be able to do my job without one hand being tied behind my back. "

"Don't expect two miracles in one month, Lieutenant." Grinning, Tucker slammed the panel shut on his side of the shaft, sealing in the pulsing power relays. "I told him that yeah, we all know he rushed us off the Station before everythin' was ready; but that he was right to do it, an' every member of this crew would say the same."

"I dare say they would; and not simply for the pleasure of annoying the Vulcans." Reed shoved an errant lock of dark chocolate hair back from his brow, giving the taller man a pleasing view of the muscles of his exposed forearms flexing beneath his pale skin.

He hadn't noticed before – had no chance, he amended, Malcolm wasn't one to crease the sleeves of his uniform by pushing them up unless he was _really _elbow deep in plasma coolant – what sexy forearms the Brit had. For a slight man, Malcolm sure packed in a lot of lean, sinewy muscle.

_Kinda makes a guy wonder what else that jumpsuit hides,_ Trip allowed, turning abruptly to observe the smooth metallic body of the newly-built cannon humming to its waiting position hanging above the exterior hatch.

"What about you?" he asked, inching back to allow the younger man to check the cannon one last time. "Do _you_ think launchin' when we did constituted an acceptable risk?"

"Yes." The conviction in the single word startled Reed as much as his friend. "What was the alternative, after all? Firing Klaang back toward Kronos in a torpedo tube, while our pointy-eared friends peered ever-so-unemotionally down their noses at us _again? _I'd have appreciated time to get the targeting scanners tuned in at the very least, but..."

"Seems to me the best we can do out here is manage the risks we're takin'." Tucker jabbed a long finger in the direction of the cannon's stubby barrel. "You know these things pretty well, right?"

"I was involved in testing the prototype, yes."

"And you've been runnin' simulations ever since we shipped out, I'm guessin', to be so sure the inverters _will_ cut in soon as there's any trouble?"

Reed shrugged, trying again to smooth the wayward curl of hair back from his eyes. "I'd be a piss-poor armoury officer, Commander, if I didn't run _every _possible simulation before judging the level of risk," he said mildly. "Trust me, Trip: it'll work."

It was the use of his nickname that did it, so seldom heard from the _terribly proper _Englishman, and so delicious in that crisp, well-modulated accent. Swallowing hard, Tucker shoved himself hard against the Jeffries tube wall, allowing his colleague to precede him back down the crawlway toward the wide-open space of the armoury. "I do trust you, Malcolm," he whispered, making sure his friend was out of earshot before adding the killer point. "I just don't trust myself around you. Hey, Tanner! You wanna comm. the Cap'n, tell him we'll be ready for a test firin' sometime today? Figure we just need to locate a target now – what do you say, Lieutenant?"

The happy smile that answered him would, Trip hoped, keep him warm a couple more lonely nights at least.


End file.
